Batter Up!
by SlimReaper
Summary: Read Running The Bases first. Cap needs a bit of help planning his next play. Who better to talk to than Tony Stark, the billionaire, genius, philanthropist, playboy himself? ... yeah, maybe not. Implied Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis, Tony Stark is a sleep-deprived maniac with a dirty mind, Dummy loves his fire extinguisher, Stark's lab is dangerous, it's not my fault, blame Darcy.


"Sir, Captain Rogers requests permission to enter."

Tony didn't even pause in his work–actually, this particular moment wasn't pause-able. Soldering this connection was tricky and since it led directly to his boot repulsor, he really didn't want to fuck it up. He'd fallen out of the sky several times in his life and since none of them had been particularly awesome, not repeating the experience ranked high on his to-do list. He leaned closer, magnifying glass clamped to the boot, tiny tweezers in one hand and a needle-point soldering iron in the other–

"Sir? Shall I have him make an appointment with Ms. Potts?"

The AI's voice made him jump and stab himself with the red-hot, needle-sharp iron. "What?–_ow,_ fuck!" He dropped the tool and stuck his burned finger in his mouth–he wasn't bleeding, instant cauterization, that could be an awesome idea except that _this was his finger and it fucking hurt._ His words emerged slurred around the digit as he sucked it, trying to relieve the pain. "No, shit, hell no, Jarv, Pepper's pissed at me, remember? Send him in, _fuck,_ do I have any burn ointment in here?"

"In the first aid kit beside the coffee maker, Sir," JARVIS replied in his unshakably calm British accent. "Captain Rogers, do come in."

Tony heard the door open and shut but he didn't turn around. "Yo, Capsicle, make yourself at home, don't touch anything, sit, I'll be there in a minute," he said, popping open the first aid kit and rummaging around inside it. Packages went flying. "God, do we have a whole hospital in here? JARVIS, what the hell, man, I don't get hurt _that _much, only once in a while, barely ever, what gives?"

"Ms. Potts commissioned this kit personally, Sir," JARVIS replied. "I believe she holds a slightly different opinion of your injury rate. I'm afraid the statistics do seem to bear out her viewpoint. The burn cream will be a small, blue tube, Sir," the AI added when Tony started scooping handfuls of supplies randomly onto the counter.

"Are you all right, Stark?" Rogers asked as he sat gingerly, concern in his voice, and damned if he didn't even _sound _like the blond-haired, blue-eyed defender of freedom, how the hell could a _voice_ have a hair color, Tony would like to know?

"Yeah, yeah, fine, little burn, hot metal stabby things aren't fun, I'll be right with you," Tony said around his throbbing finger, and then, "Ah-ha! Knew it was in here somewhere!" as he triumphantly held the little blue tube aloft. "This thing's a mess, JARVIS. Make a note. Get me a new first-aid kit, have it reasonably _organized_ next time, this is ridiculous, I don't have time for this shit, I could've been bleeding to death, do you even care?"

"I have indeed been programmed to care, Sir. My records indicate the kit had been neatly organized by injury type and clearly labeled before your unorthodox method of searching occurred, Sir."

Tony uncapped the tube with his teeth, spit the cap across the room, and finally turned toward Rogers. "Sass from my own AI, can you believe it? I birthed him, he could show a little respect for his mommy," he said to the bemused captain as he squeezed a glob of ointment onto his burned finger. Then a whirring sound behind him made him spin around, yelling, "_Ah-ah-ah, NO Dummy, don't you dare!_"

The mobile robotic arm made a disappointed noise as it lowered the fire extinguisher it had snuck up behind him with.

"Yeah, don't give me that, having _a burn_ does not mean I _am burning,_ I swear I'm gonna configure you into a toaster, maybe one of those love-bots, a motorized dildo, you'll see things that'll fry your circuits and it'll serve you right, you defective piece of–"

Rogers stood up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, I can see you're busy, maybe this was a bad idea. I'll just–"

But now Tony had gotten a good look at him and threatening Dummy, treating his burn, arguing with JARVIS–all that was forgotten. "Oh no you don't, _sit,_" Tony commanded in the tone that had silenced more than one board meeting–Rogers and Thor weren't the only ones who could do the Voice Of Absolute Authority. He crossed the lab, still dabbing medicine absently on his burn, studying the captain with narrowed eyes. Finally he said, "You're blushing. Why are you blushing, Capsicle? I haven't even made a pass at you yet."

Rogers turned even redder. He rubbed his hands over his face and abruptly got to his feet again. "This is definitely a bad idea. Look, you're working, I'll let myself out–"

"JARVIS, lock the doors. Captain Rogers does not have clearance to exit the premises," Tony said.

"As you wish, Sir," the AI replied, punctuating it with the loud _thunk_ of military-grade locks sliding home at all exits.

Rogers gaped at him. "You did not just lock me in here."

Tony tossed the tube in the general direction of the nearest wastebasket and smirked. "Yeah, I did, and I'm not rescinding that order until you spit out whatever made you come to see me blushing like a virgin kid asking his big brother to buy condoms. So–"

But Tony's voice died, jaw dropping as Rogers' face bypassed _red_ and went straight to _nuclear meltdown._ "Well holy shit," he drawled, grinning with pure, evil delight. "Captain America's about to get himself laid! Good God, I'm so proud, I knew you had it in you, buddy! You want condoms? That's why you came to me, right, you know I'm like a Boy Scout, always prepared. I could give–"

"_No, I did not come here for fucking condoms, Jesus Christ, do you _ever_ stop talking?"_

Stark's eyebrows shot up as Rogers' shout echoed through the vast room. "JARVIS, please confirm that we did in fact make a record of Captain America shouting _fuck _and taking the Lord's name in vain," he said, mostly just to needle Steve because it was a fact that Stark was genetically incapable of not pushing his luck. "Paste 'em together, lemme hear it."

"Record made, Sir. Playback." Then Rogers' voice echoed through the lab. "_FUCKING JESUS CHRIST!_"

Rogers stood so fast that he knocked the chair back three feet. Striding to the door, he banged on it when it didn't open. Finally he turned and glared at Tony, face still red, but the anger in his eyes was real. "Forget it, Stark," he snarled, biting off every word. "I should have known better than to think you'd be any help at all. Let me out of here or I'll break your door down."

And Stark realized then that Rogers had honestly come to him for help, even knowing Tony's penchant for making everything into a joke–he'd come here for help, and he'd gotten nothing but shit since he'd walked through the door. So Tony did something then that he almost never did. He stopped fucking around and got serious. "Okay, okay, look, I'm sorry," he said, and when Rogers turned around, he held up both hands in surrender. "I really am. Just come sit down and let's talk."

Rogers crossed his arms over his chest, muscles bulging, and wow he looked pissed off in a way that made Tony really want to get his suit on. "No more jokes, Stark," Rogers growled. "I am not in the mood."

"Yeah, I can see that," Tony agreed, wishing that whatever serum had taken the captain from beat-to-hell-concussed to male-model-superhero in two days was still around because he would mix that shit with scotch and have it for breakfast every day. "I'm sorry, Steve. Come on, sit down, I swear I'll be serious. Tell me why you're here."

Steve stared at him for another long moment before finally dropping his arms and letting his breath out in a long sigh. "Turn off your recorders," he said at last, sounding defeated as he crossed the room to right his chair with a foot before falling into it.

Tony bit his tongue to keep from asking the thousand questions that burned through his mind at that request, but in the end he merely said, "JARVIS? No recording, audio or visual, until I say the word. Also, lock down the corridors around the lab and initiate security protocol B." When Rogers frowned at him, Stark explained, "Neat little program I made. Keeps bugs from working and interrupts any kind of audio surveillance SHIELD might be trying to use in here. No matter how hard they try, they haven't gotten their sneaky little eyes and ears in here yet, bless their hearts," he added with satisfaction.

"Security protocol B is active, sir, and the surrounding corridors are empty and secured. Your privacy is assured, Captain Rogers. No records will be made of your conversation."

Tony spread his hands in a _ta-da_ gesture. "All right, no records, no eavesdropping, no muss no fuss. Really, you're killing me with curiosity here, buddy. Care to spill it?"

Rogers rubbed his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath, looking everywhere but at Tony. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Swallowed hard, shook his head, tried again but still said nothing. Dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling as though looking for answers there–or courage–and, finding neither, ran his hands over his face again. The silence stretched out and Stark finally couldn't take it anymore. "You keep this up and I'm going to die of old age before you spit it out, man."

Rogers blushed but smiled a little, shaking his head. "Sorry. Hard to say it," he admitted.

"Wanna play hot/cold?" Stark suggested, and started the game without giving him a chance to respond. "Is it something to do with technology?"

Steve looked relieved when he replied, "Cold."

"The press?"

"Cold."

"SHIELD, then."

Steve started to answer, then closed his mouth. Finally he said, almost sheepishly, "A little bit warmer."

Tony rubbed his hands together. "Ahh, nice. Okay, Fury?"

"Oh, man, so very, very cold," Steve said, laughing and shuddering.

Tony grinned. "Thor."

"Vaguely warmer," Steve replied, cheeks pink again.

"God, you're cute when you blush. Loki."

"Ugh, negative four thousand degrees. And shut up."

"Sex."

Steve gaped at him. "How the heck did you go from Loki to sex?"

"It was always gonna be my seventh guess," Tony replied with a shrug. When Steve just continued to stare, Tony sighed and rolled his eyes. "Look, let's count off the options. I'm good at dealing with tech, the press, and women. You said _cold_ to the first two, not that I thought you wanted to talk about those anyway once you asked me to turn off the recordings. You're getting laid, Steve. C'mon, Cap, 'fess up."

Rogers hesitated for a heartbeat. Then, to Tony's everlasting delight, he finally nodded.

Stark couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. "Good for you, buddy! It's about damn time, too–what are you, like ninety years old or something? It is _so _past time for you to get that cherry popped."

"Stark…" Steve said warningly.

Tony held up his hands placatingly. "Okay, okay, sorry, I'm just so proud." He wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. "So, serious. I can be serious, really." He nodded, cleared his throat, and made a valiant attempt to wipe the shit-eating grin from his face. He must've been at least partially successful because Steve marginally relaxed again. "So talk to me, Steve. What can Uncle Tony do for you, hmm?"

"Technically, Sir, due to the age difference, it would be more accurate to say 'Uncle Steve,'" JARVIS commented.

"Shut up, JARVIS," Steve and Tony said together. Then Steve bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, and met Tony's gaze for the first time since they'd sat down. "The truth is, I don't _know,_" he admitted. "I really haven't done this before, and she has. I just don't… I don't want to be a disappointment to her," he said, choking the words out.

"When's this happening?" Stark asked, reaching back and grabbing a tablet from the cluttered workspace behind him. "Tonight, tomorrow, when?"

"Tonight," Steve admitted, blushing again but this time making no effort whatsoever to hide it. Instead of shame and embarrassment in his eyes, this time they held hope. "I'm sorry, I should have talked to you sooner, I know–I already made dinner reservations–"

Tony waved that away and started typing frantically on the tablet. "My friend, you came to the right place," he said, grinning. "Forget your reservations, forget taking her to your apartment, don't you worry about a single thing. I'm gonna set you up right and make sure you know what to do with her when you get her there." He clapped Steve on the back. "You're in for the night of your life, buddy. I guarantee it."

.

**A/N–Damn it, y'all wore me down! I wasn't going to continue ****Running The Bases****–it was meant to be a one-shot and that's ALL. But so many of you begged so prettily that I just had to give in and continue it. There will be one more little tale, OF COURSE THERE WILL, how could I not finish what I started? As Darcy said, it is NOT NICE to get people all hot and bothered and not finish 'em off!**

**Also, OMG can you even IMAGINE going to Tony Freaking Stark for sex advice? Steve Rogers, man from the straitlaced past, talking to playboy-extraordinare Stark to get how-to tips? *dies* Yeah, when that thought occurred to me, I could not resist it. Not even sorry. Stark had to give him shit but he's gonna make up for it. Oh, yes, he is. **

**Review, my darlings!**


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